


This Light of Mine

by papergardener



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas gift, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Gift Giving, Holiday Fic Exchange, Imector, Post-Canon, Romance, better late than never, they deserve nice things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 14:05:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17427317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papergardener/pseuds/papergardener
Summary: It's Héctor's first real Christmas with his family, and Imelda finds something special in a dusty old box.





	This Light of Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tomatosoupful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomatosoupful/gifts).



> Merry Christmas!  
> … okay this should have been written in time for Christmas but I missed that by a long shot.  
> I wanted to give the Coco fandom some small Christmas story, and this is also my part in an informal fic gift exchange with Tomato (who actually wrote her fic on time, and it was precious).  
> I really could have used this for the fluff-off contest (I’m not very happy with my entry, haha) but nothing wrong with some more joy and light.  
> Enjoy!

It was the beginning of the Christmas season, his first real holiday again with his family and his daughter, and Héctor couldn’t be happier.  
  
“Ay, Papá! Slow down or you’ll drop it!” Coco said nervously, fidgeting as he came down the narrow ladder from the attic.  
  
“Nahhh!” Héctor said cheerfully, swiveling on his hips once just for show and continuing on his way with the dusty box of holiday decorations in his arms.  
  
Stepping through the narrow halls, they could just make out the light pattering of rain against the dark windows, but it was warm and bright inside, with everyone in a festive mood. Nothing could go wrong, Héctor thought cheerfully. Finally he could just be there and enjoy time with those he loved.  
  
“And here we are!” he shouted as he set it down in the midst of the dining room, a scene of colorful organized chaos.  
  
Already one box was out and quickly being emptied. Some of the family had begun to set up the _Nacimientos_ —the nativity scene. It was a modest ceramic affair that Imelda had gotten on her first Christmas in the Land of the Dead, and currently was half-made on a little side table, surrounded by fresh Spanish moss and poinsettias, and with Julio and Rosita fussing over the broken ear of the donkey. Imelda had unpacked and carried away the old-fashioned (and just plain old) plates and platters, while Dante got happily tangled in the shiny new tinsel.  
  
“What’s all in this one?” Héctor asked, peering curiously at the mass of newspaper padding filling the cardboard box he had brought down, wiping his hands on his vest to clean it of dust.  
  
“Bit of everything,” Oscar said unhelpfully, peering over his shoulder.  
  
“This and that and the other,” Felipe continued, picking up one little bundle of paper and revealing a carved angel decoration.  
  
“It’s true,” Victoria said, coming over and kneeling beside him. “It’s mostly the odds and ends box. We don’t always bring it down.”  
  
Héctor took out another newspaper wrapped lump from within and found a dove ornament, its little wooden wings unfurled. For a moment his joy fluttered lower, and he wondered if there was history to the little thing, some meaning that he had missed in all his years apart from the family.  
  
But it was only for a moment, and he carefully took it and stood, moving over to the Christmas tree in the corner, the stiff plastic boughs slowly being filled with a mishmash of decorations. Tenderly he hooked it onto a branch and stepped back, marveling at it.  
  
“I like that one,” Coco said, coming to his side before hanging an ornament of her own, a huarache in miniature. Héctor looked over at her and couldn’t help the broad smile across his face.  
  
Christmas with his daughter. After so many years. With his family.  
  
“Huh,” Victoria mused from behind them, making Héctor turn to see her still kneeling over the box. “I don’t think I’ve seen this used before. Should we put it somewhere?”  
  
“Oh, that,” Imelda said thoughtfully, having come in from the kitchen and now leaning in to get a better look, reaching out a hand out to take it. “I’d almost forgotten about it.”  
  
Héctor froze, his breath leaving him in a rush as he saw what she held: a simple waxen candle tied with a red ribbon. Imelda turned it in her hands, looking thoughtful and apparently entirely unaware of its significance.  
  
“You kept it,” he whispered, not even realizing he had said it aloud until the entire family had turned to look at him, which by itself was remarkable and almost terrifying.  
  
“What?” Imelda asked, frowning, gazing at him.  
  
“I… I gave that to you,” Héctor said softly, lifting his wide eyes to meet Imelda’s, as shocked as himself. Perhaps more so.  
  
He remembered.  
  
Despite the years, some details shone through the murky depths of his memory. He had bought it from a street vendor, he was fairly sure. Or perhaps traded for a song. It was a simple thing, a squat wax candle in a little ceramic base. A red ribbon with gold trim still clung around it. A long time ago he had tied a poinsettia bloom with that ribbon, he remember picking it and arranging the flower just right.  
  
There had been no note. He knew Imelda would reject anything if she knew who it had come from.

It had been late, a cold winter’s night, yet still there had been a light in a window. Distantly he could recall hearing Imelda as he stood upon the doorstep for a minute, ignoring the wind and the chill. He remembered the heartbreak at hearing her speak soft and warm, and knowing the words were not meant for him.

All the same, he had wanted to give her a gift, a small reminder that he still loved her, through all the years, through all the pain.

He had pulled a matchbox from his pocket, struck it, and carefully lit the fresh wick, making sure the flame held steady before he pulled away, watching it glow brighter, safely sheltered from the wind. A few quick raps on the door, a moment’s hesitation, and then he fled to the shadows. 

He had seen her come to the door and peer around, had watched quietly as she picked it up, turning it in her hands before bringing it inside and closing the door with a firm click.

That had been years ago, and yet…  
  
"You actually kept it," he said, stunned.

"You mean… you gave this to me? You were the one who left in on my doorstep," she said frowning, not so much out of old anger but puzzlement, and her eyes flickered to the wick, blackened and brittle from that one night’s flare.

A cough disturbed the thickening silence, and Héctor remembered that all of their family stood there, listening, although not for long. Quickly they all moved out, some with excuses about setting the table or taking Dante for a walk, while Julio had to not-so-subtly pull Coco away.  
  
Then it was only the two of them standing in the room, and a familiar prickle ran up his spine as he watched her, apparently unwilling to meet his eyes and staring hard at his gift in her hands.  
  
Had he done something wrong, he wondered, standing there and clasping his hands tight as he waited. Back then, Imelda had told him to never come near her; to leave her alone. He had disobeyed that in order to leave that gift, not to mention the notes and letters he had left over the years. Was she upset at him? Perhaps she didn't like it. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all.  
  
It had been over a year. He shouldn’t still feel this nervous, yet there was still a fear that this happiness could all be taken away from him.  
  
Finally Imelda looked up and there was a flash of shock, and then quickly she walked over to him, taking his hand and squeezing tight.  
  
“You’re making that face again,” she said, smiling warmly up at him, and he relaxed with a breath of laughter.  
  
“Hah, ahh… right.” He bit his lip, looking around as he thought of something more to say. “I’m uh… glad you kept it.”  
  
Imelda shook her head disapprovingly. “I never used it. I should have, but instead I let it sit in that box all these years. I’m sorry, Héctor.”  
  
“Hey, it’s all right,” he said, smiling in his relief, in the burst of love he felt, and wishing to ease whatever sorrow Imelda might feel on his behalf. “I’m sure it’ll still burn just as well now as then.”  
  
Imelda gave a faint laugh, now smiling as well before stepping away, and he followed. “We can put it on the table. It’ll be perfect there.”  
  
Already there were small lit candles scattered upon the tablecloth in anticipation of dinner, and a matchbox still lay nearby. Héctor watched with reverence as she struck a match and lit it, cupping the flame as it warmed the wick, then flared and settled. As she leaned back, Héctor put an arm over her shoulder, and something seemed to leap a little in his chest as she put a hand over his, stepping closer to him as they watched the small flame.  
  
“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice kind and warm. “It’s beautiful.”  
  
He lightly kissed her cheek in response, slightly overwhelmed by the bright warmth in his heart.  
  
“Merry Christmas, _mi amor._ ”

                      

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I was lucky enough to get some *amazing* fanart by Elletoria, and had to share it!!
> 
> Merry Christmas, everyone :)


End file.
